


Mystery of the Quotient, The

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-31
Updated: 2003-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atSpooky Awards, and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address onSpookyAwards' collection profile.





	Mystery of the Quotient, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

The Mystery of the Quotient

## The Mystery of the Quotient

### by Koo

TITLE: The Mystery of the Quotient 

AUTHOR: Eponine (aka Koo) 

SPOILERS: None (Post Season 9) 

**CATEGORY: MSR**

RATING: PG-13 (for language and adult situations) 

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Carter and 1013. 

* * *

Arroyo, Mexico

He held the rough newsprint in his hand. The picture was like so many which had come before it. Mass suicide at the hands of people wanting so desperately to believe in something. Fox Mulder carelessly tossed the paper back onto the table. Perhaps it was better that these people died now. They would be spared from the fate that awaited mankind on December 22, 2012. He rose from the old lumpy sofa. He made his way to the window which was in desperate need of washing. Parting the muslin curtain which covered it, he could see Scully walking in what they kindly referred to as a garden. To their neighbors in this small town sixty miles north of Mexico City, they were the quiet foreigners, Mr. and Mrs. George Hale. These were people who rarely ventured into town except for the occasional gallon of milk, bag of flour. It was a lonely existence, but thanks to the Internet they were current about all that was taking place in the world which raced past them. 

The door opened and Scully placed a basket which held corn and string beans onto the table to her left. On the table were some family photographs that her mother had e-mailed to her from a cyber cafe back in the states. Matthew, her nephew, was growing into a handsome young man, looking more like Bill each day. Gray had finally come to claim the dark strands of her mother's sable hair and the most painful picture to look at, but one which at which she could not help but stare: William. 

She often wondered how he was doing. He would be three soon. Were his days occupied watching Sesame Street? When he drank milk did a he don the telltale mustache? Was his mother able to calm him after his nightmares? 

Mulder could see the distress covering her face and wished that he could just remove the picture from the frame, and hide it from her eyes forever. Long ago they had decided not to tempt fate a second time. The nagging question lingered whether or not a second child of theirs would be cursed with the abilities that made William a target. It was a risk that neither he nor Scully wanted to chance. 

Scully had been uncharacteristically quiet and preoccupied the last few days. A single tear fell from her eye. She had been standing near the door for last five minutes lost in dead silence. Her hand absently stroked the soft curve of her belly. 

"Dana, what's wrong?" his gentle voice echoed in the room. 

"It's never going to end is it?" 

"What is never going to end?" 

"The running..." 

"Hon" he said walking toward her from the window where he had been standing. He faced her, his hand brushing away a strand of hair which was falling into her eye. "We've been here nearly three years and nobody has even as so much as come to visit. We are safe. The geography of the land ensures that they will never come." 

"I was so careful, you were so careful..." her voice trailed off. 

"Nothing is going to happen, Dana. I wouldn't let it happen." 

She looked up at him, her eyes red and teary. "I'm pregnant Fox." 

* * *

100 miles north of Amman, Jordan

Professor Carlos Oranco gently brushed away years of desert dust from the fresco which covered the walls of the long abandoned temple. Until recently the team which he headed believed it to be a Pagan temple. However, the artwork and the relics discovered thus far had been undeniably Judeo. 

"Perkins, would you mind handing me that other brush? The larger one?", he asked his flustered assistant. 

"Sure", the younger man said reaching into the battered leather bag. 

"Hmmm..interesting," Oranco muttered under his breath. 

"What Professor?" 

"It appears to be telling a story. Many small frescos contained within the one." 

"My God...." 

Both Dr. Oranco and Josh looked in shock at what was before their eyes. What appeared to be spacecraft hovering over modern day Amman, Baghdad, Cairo, Los Angeles, London, New York and so many other cities. Some of the skylines he recognized and others he did not. Seattle was unmistakable, as was Washington DC. It was, after all, these identical paintings whose only differing qualities were the cities, that the story took a strange turn. A young boy and a young girl; one very dark and brunette, the female with cascading red hair. Both had only what could be described as a divine light enveloped around their heads. 

"A depiction of a red headed girl. Odd to say the least for this part of the world.." 

"That is not all that is odd sir", Josh replied somewhat sarcastically. 

"I never paid much mind to those theories. That we all came from ancient interplanetary ancestors. But I know a man who does. I have no way of getting in touch with him. From all accounts I have heard he is dead." 

"Who was he?" 

"A former FBI Agent named Fox Mulder." 

* * *

Arroyo, Mexico

Mulder could hear movement in the house that night as he slept. It was just a past three a.m. In a sleepy daze his hand touched the pillow, but Dana wasn't beside him. Quietly he walked into the small living room. She was trying in vain to lock a small suitcase. 

"Where are you going?", he asked. She was visibly startled. 

"I'm driving into The States." 

"You know we cannot go back to the US, Dana. What would possess you to do such a thing?" 

She stood quietly, like a child who had just been caught doing something very naughty by her parents, a look of pure shame. 

"I was going to go have an abortion." 

White hot anger covered Mulder's face. 

"I thought we had discussed that and we agreed that we would see this through." 

"Mulder the thought of losing you or having to give up this child too is unbearable." 

"Don't I have a say in this? It's my child too. You once said to me that you wanted to believe in something that is bigger than us, bigger than the power of our enemies. Believe now Dana. Believe and have faith in it, have faith in us, have faith in me. Nothing...nothing is going to harm this child." 

"I want to believe Mulder", she said in a voice barely above a whisper. 

"Now come back to bed." 

Mulder picked up the newspaper from the nightstand and took his familiar spot on the right side of the bed. That afternoon he had never gotten the opportunity to read about the mass deaths in Illinois. He quickly scanned the paper and found the article. 

<There were believed to be no survivors from what appears to be a mass murder or murder/suicide which took place in Chambert, Illinois this past Tuesday. However, police have confirmed that there was one; a three year old boy who did not consume the cyanide dusted, cinnamon sugar doughnuts. Authorities are puzzled as to why this child was spared. In total, 53 people ranging in ages from 2 to 80 years of age were among the dead. It is unclear right now whether the mass deaths were a result of homicide or suicide. Chambert Police Chief, Raymond Hollands, stated that they are leaning toward homicide upon seeing the crime scene, which he described as being, "the worst I have ever seen in twenty eight years in law enforcement." Authorities have put out an all points bulletin for Claire Haas, the cook at the group's compound. She was not among the dead as it was her day off. While Haas is not a suspect, she is wanted for questioning about the group which called themselves, "The Church of the New Universal Order." If any one has seen Miss Haas they are asked to please call the Chambert Police at 555-0337.>

Mulder knew that he had heard the name of the group before, somewhere within an X-File. The word sounded peculiar in his mind, "X-File". He had not allowed himself to even think of those for years. 

Dana was lying quietly at his side a book in her hand, "Breakfast at Tiffany's". She had read it many times over the years. Mulder found it amusing that Dana loved such a romantic tale. Somehow, it seemed out of character at that time. Now he knew that deep within her was love, romance and deep affection which he was grateful to have brought to the surface. 

"Scully, does The Church of the New Universal Order ring a bell for you?" 

"Weren't they some doomsday cult that believed that aliens would invade the Earth and that the second coming would coincide with it?" 

"I think you're right. Don't they have a compound here in Mexico?" 

"I don't know. You should hop on the Net." 

Scully turned over and lightly brushed his lips with hers. "Why are you so interested?" 

"There were some deaths at their compound in Illinois. Everyone died except a three year old boy." 

Scully's faced turned ashen white at the implication his words brought. William was adopted in Illinois. 

"You don't think..." 

"That boy is William." 

* * *

3 Days Later  
Riley, Illinois

"Claire is that you?" a male voice called as Claire handed the tired little boy an Oreo in the kitchen downstairs. 

"Yes hon, be in a second." 

"I bet you're tired aren't you Zach?" she asked gently. 

"A little. I wanna go home." 

"I know this is difficult for you to understand, but you won't be able to go home." 

"Why not?" 

"Remember how the policemen told you Momma and Daddy went to heaven?" 

"Yes, when people are in heaven they stay there forever. Your Momma and Daddy wanted me to take care of you." 

"I don't believe you!" His full lips trembling. 

"I'm telling you the truth." 

"How come you never came over to our house? You never came over on Christmas?" 

"I just want to make sure you are safe, Zachary William. Now if I didn't know your Momma and Daddy, how would I know your middle name?" 

Zach pondered this information. It made sense to him, but still he was suspicious. 

'Now let's get you into bed." 

As soon as Zach was settled and asleep she walked up the long staircase of the 19th century farmhouse. Her boyfriend had not even crossed her mind. He was supposed to have left mid-morning. He worked in Chambert also, a private investigator. 

She quickly shed her sweater, bra and put on her favorite ratty tanktop when she reached the bathroom. Brushing her teeth, she felt a presence standing behind her. She felt the familiar soft lips touch he exposed shoulder. 

"I thought you were going to go into work today." 

"Changed my mind. You go to the police station today to make that statement?" 

"No. I went to visit my sister." 

"Claire you need to go make that statement." 

She turned around and faced him, her finger tracing the outline of his lips. 

"Well Walter Skinner, I guess you can take the boy out of the FBI, but not the FBI out of the boy." 

Skinner smiled. Claire had made his days since he was ousted from the bureau easier to handle. In reality Skinner had been more than happy to leave the bureau especially after seeing what that   
institution had done to Mulder and Scully. His heart was no longer in it and his faith had been irrevocably shattered. 

"Now come to bed you big bald beautiful man." 

A warm smile covered his face. Fox Mulder had once uttered the same words to him. A time that now seemed a lifetime ago. 

Laying in bed her lips touched hers. Her hand lazily running up and down his thigh, making its way to the stiffness contained within the loose boxers he wore. 

"I can't find the bathroom," the voice of a small child said. 

Skinner looked up and saw a young boy dressed in a light blue sweat suit. 

"What the hell is going on Claire?" 

She got quickly out of bed. 

"Zach the bathroom is the next door down." 

The little boy left the doorway and walked sleepily down the hall. 

"Answer my question." 

"That boy is the son of people you know. I have been sent to protect him." 

"Whose son?" 

"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully." 

"Who sent you?" 

"A group of people who wish to protect him, keep him safe from harm." 

"Why should I believe you?" 

"You also knew my father, Walter. His name is Jeremiah Smith." 

The thought of having had sex with an alien didn't bother Skinner as much as what would happen to William if he were to be discovered there. 

"We must leave tonight." 

"Where are we going?" 

"Mexico. It is where the other like me have gathered, Walter. That is also where your two former agents have been living in hiding the last three years." 

"How come you know this and the supersoldiers don't?" 

"We can see things they cannot. The geography of the land that we will be going to not only can kill them, but it blocks their intuitive abilities." 

"Are Mulder and Scully safe?" 

"Yes, but she is troubled." 

"Troubled by what?" 

"She is carrying a child." 

"Like William?" 

"Yes, but far more powerful. They have thought all along that William was the tool of their demise, but it is her. That is why they wanted to destroy him and them so she would never be. He is her guardian." 

* * *

Amman, Jordan

"You break that damn thing and you can forget about getting paid! I want it loaded onto the truck gently! You hear me? Gently!", Oranco barked to the Jordanian workers he had hired from the local transport company. 

A small group of reporters had gathered from CNN. A petite woman was in the foreground yelling at the cameraman that he was photographing her from the wrong angle. Finally they approached. 

"Dr. Oranco could we have a few moments of your time?" 

Being a publicity hound by nature, he couldn't resist the idea of his moment of triumph not being seen by a worldwide audience. He grabbed the cheap black comb which he always kept in his pocket and ran it through what was left of his hair on his balding head. 

"5-4-3-2-1", the cameraman said and they were rolling. 

"Dr. Oranco please tell our CNN viewers the significance of the discovery you have made." 

"Well the most significant thing is that the temple which was long believed to have been Pagan appears to have belonged to an early Judeo Cult. A cult which believed that visitors from outside our solar system would bring about the end of Planet Earth. It somewhat confirms Old Testament writings describing angels which appeared from the heavens riding golden chariots. The most interesting thing about the piece, which as you can see is quite large, is the accurate depiction of modern cities. Whether this is a prophetic piece or simply the imaginings of the ancient Hebrews, that I cannot say." 

"Where will this artifact be going?" 

"Initially the Jordanian authorities wanted to keep it here in Jordan, then the Israeli government expressed an interest that it be sent to Israel. A compromise was met and the piece will be sent to my museum in Mexico City for a period of sixth months, from there it will be housed in the museum in Jerusalem and returned to Jordan where it will be on permanent display. I would personally like to thank His Majesty and The Prime Minister of Israel for allowing the Mexican people to be the first to see this history altering discovery." 

"There has been speculation that the piece is indeed cursed." 

Oranco let out a loud belly laugh. "Whenever a major archeological find is unearthed, the talk of curses start. This is nothing new. Howard Carter had to endure such nonsense after he unearthed Tut's tomb." 

"Isn't it true that your intern died under strange circumstances?" 

"Perkins died as a result of his own stupidity. A common result when you decide to drink and drive." 

"Thank you for taking the time to speak to us Dr. Oranco." 

"My pleasure." 

Quickly he turned to the workers who had finished loading it into the diesel truck. 

"Let's go, I want to be out of this country and in the air by dark." 

* * *

Chambert, Illinois

Walter Skinner walked up the short flight of steps which led to the small office of the Chambert Police Department. Since moving to the small hamlet and establishing his business he had become friends with the chief. As he walked in he received the usual warm greeting from all the officers as he passed them in the hall. Despite the fact that he at one time had been a Fed, he was still a cop. A special kinship and brotherhood existed between all of them regardless of geography or jurisdiction. He lightly wrapped on Chief Hollands' door. He was on the phone and motioned with his hand for Skinner to come in. 

"Babe, I have to go someone is in the office...No..no... I won't forget the Italian Breadcrumbs on the way home. You know how I love your meatloaf," he said while making a disgusted face to Skinner. 

Skinner chuckled as Hollands finally placed the receiver back on the cradle. 

"We still going fishing on Saturday?" Hollands asked. 

"Better believe it," Skinner replied in a manner which was overly jovial. He hoped that Hollands could not detect he was lying. 

"What can I do for you Walter?" 

"I was wanting to know what you know about that cult suicide. Thought I might be of some assistance to the investigation." 

"Well the biggest favor you could do for us is to get Claire in here to make a statement. Perhaps you could drop the hint during a little pillow talk." 

"I spoke to her on the phone. She is still at her sister's. As soon as her sister is well she has promised me that she will come in and make a statement." 

"Good. As far as the case is concerned we're stumped. I've never seen anything like it. We are positive that the members were all forced to eat the donuts of that there is no doubt. The tox screens of what was left of the remains show high levels of cyanide, but cyanide doesn't do to people what I saw in there." 

"Which is what exactly?" 

"It was as if these people exploded and turned into some kind of dried blood dust. That is the ONLY way I can describe it." 

"Was anything else unusual found in the post mortems?" 

"Yeah high levels of a mineral called Magnetite." 

"What about the boy? Were his parents members of the cult?" 

"It would appear that they were. Their DNA was confirmed by a relative." 

"Where is the boy now?" 

"Well questioning him yielded next to nothing. He is only three and we found him hiding in a kitchen cupboard, oblivious to what was happening all around him. Last night he was picked up by an aunt of his. He is in Ohio." 

Skinner at that moment knew the whole scenario, the facts were undeniable, but he kept the knowledge to himself. Claire not only had laced those donuts with cyanide, but magnetite as well. Being of a shift-shaping alien race, it would've been easy for her to pose as William's aunt and secret him out of the children's home undetected. 

"Walter...," Holland said causing Skinner to come out of his self-imposed trance. 

"I'm sorry..." 

"Any thoughts? Ever see a case like this come across your desk back in DC?" 

"I'm as stumped as you are." 

"Well if you think of anything call me. Hell, the fishing might help, always clears my mind. Say would you like to come over for dinner since Claire is away?" 

"I'll pass, Rebecca's meat loaf is probably what killed those people." 

Hollands laughed. "Ain't that the truth. She makes good love, but good food?" 

* * *

Riley, Illinois

Claire hastily packed for the drive to Arroyo, Mexico. Earlier that day she had gone to the local Wal-Mart in disguise to purchase things for Zach. While packing some fruit roll-ups and Rice Crispy treats into a dufflebag Zachary approached her. 

"Something isn't right", he stated bluntly and with a maturity that far exceeded a three year old boy. 

"What makes you say that?" 

"We're running away." 

"Zach, did your parents ever tell you anything you didn't understand when you were very little?" 

"Like what?" 

"How you came to be with your Momma and Daddy?" 

"They told me once that I was very special cos I was 'dopted whatever that means." 

"You don't know what it means to be adopted? You didn't ask them?" 

"Nope Blues Clues was on." 

"Zach you are a special boy. Very special." 

"What does 'dopted mean?" 

"It means when you were a baby that your Mommy was not able to take care of you and sent you to live with another Mommy." 

"I have another Mommy?" 

"Yes and a Daddy too. That is who we are going to see. Walter knew them a long time ago and they are good people, people who will take care of you." 

"If they are so good why did they give me away?" 

"It is very complicated, but in time you will understand." 

"That is what all grown ups say." 

"Soon you will meet them and they can tell you why better than I can." 

He felt confused, but excited at the same time. He had a Mom and a Dad again. He hadn't lost everyone he loved in one swift stroke. 

* * *

Hong Kong, People's Republic of China

Fiona often thought about leaving the elite unit of MI-5. All but a selected few knew of its existence. She was far from home that night as she stood on the terrace of her apartment building in Hong Kong. Her latest conquest, an Aussie man who worked days at the stock market, tossed and turned in her bed as she lit another Virginia Slim Menthol. Killing him would be easy. It didn't take much to kill a human man. Just that evening as she gave him the screw of his life, he moaned, "Lovey you are out of this world." She chuckled. He has NO idea! she mused to herself as she took a drag from her cigarette. Some nights she was a blond, on others a brunette, whichever suited the fancy of the man she was picking up in one of the numerous nightclubs in a city which TRULY never slept. She sighed and walked toward the wetbar in the flat. She poured a glass of sour mash whiskey and downed it. The liquid burned as it cascaded down her throat. She detested her own people. They were emotional, feeling and spiritual. In Fiona's mind those qualities equated weakness and worthlessness. Never wanting to see the day when they would be defeated, she happily joined the other side. Survival was what was of the utmost importance to her. She would still be standing when their race was eradicated from the universe. Her father had been such a fool. Poor deluded Jeremiah who saw value in these loathsome creatures called humans. Humans were creatures that were so selfish that a few would sleep with their own enemy, like a common whore, to ensure their survival while the remainder perished. There were others like her, ones who saw the futility of aiding and abetting these creatures. They did not see the logic of breaking an alliance that had lasted for a millennium with the strongest of the alien race in order to save the weakest. Now strange and unwelcome thoughts flooded her brain. That morning she was given as assignment. One which she tried to refuse. 

"Fiona," said the quiet man who she only knew as "S". "You are the only one amongst us who can accomplish this task. We are incapable of doing this. We have learned from you where they are hiding and that they will bring the boy. You must kill the boy." 

The last three words echoed in her mind like a mantra that she couldn't dismiss. 

"You want me to kill a child?" 

"All of what we have accomplished will be destroyed if you do not do this." 

"He is only a child and he no longer holds the power." 

"That is where you are wrong, the mineral only makes his power dormant. We've known that for a long time." 

"Dormant for how long?" 

"Three years. Now you know why we have the utmost concern." 

She looked at the photograph of her intended victim. She may not have been human, but she was still a woman. Still a being who was capable of nurturing and bringing forth a life. 

"Your thoughts betray you Fiona. Remember you are an assassin and only by our grace are you still alive." 

"A child..." 

"He is not one of a us. He is a parasite sent to destroy all of us. A perverted pollution of all our blood." 

"But how? His parents are human." 

"Because of things the humans did which breached our alliance, none of them can be trusted to keep their word. As a result their syndicate was destroyed long ago. Now the progeny of their disobedience remains and must be destroyed." 

Her recollections were interrupted by a voice. 

"Lovey, you're up. Ready for round three?" 

She picked up his car keys from the bar and tossed them onto the bed. 

"Get the fuck out of here." 

* * *

Arroyo, Mexico

Scully got up with a start from the breakfast table. So far into this pregnancy the morning sickness was far worse than that she endured with William. She recalled words that BJ Morrow had spoken to her in the lady's lavatory back at a police station in Aubrey Missouri. "She told me about the nausea, but not the nightmares." As of late Scully's dreams had been invaded by horrible visions. A woman coming, taking a young boy, Mulder lying on the damp early morning earth with a mortal gunshot wound to his heart. Her tears spilling onto him as he uttered his last words, "Dana, I love you. I'll always love you. Don't let them win." That was when she would wake up, never seeing the ultimate outcome the story. 

"Feeling any better?" Mulder asked as she resumed her place in front of a half-eaten breakfast. 

"Not really, but soon it will pass." 

There was a light rapping at the front door. 

"Who could that be?", Scully asked trying her best to sound calm. 

"I don't know, just be very quiet." 

Mulder rose from the table and opened a drawer in the kitchen where they kept a Smith and Wesson 9mm handgun. 

Mulder walked into the small living room and opened the door a crack. 

"Senor Hale?", a young Mexican boy asked. 

"Si." 

"A letter for you." 

Mulder took the letter from his hand. He knew the sloppy cursive strokes from his performance reviews and many reprimands at the bureau, it was the chicken scratch of Walter Skinner. How could Skinner have possibly known where they where in exile? Not even Maggie Scully knew they were there. Scully walked into the room and Mulder turned toward her. 

"What is it babe?", she asked. 

"A letter from Skinner." 

"How did he...?" 

Cutting her off, he spoke. "I don't know, but it would have to be something very important for him to find us." He impatiently ripped open the envelope. 

Dear George and Megan, 

I know that in sending this letter I may have betrayed your location. However, some things have happened stateside that I think both you and Megan have the right to know. I am leaving for Arroyo tonight. A woman will be with me. She has some important things to tell you and will know how to proceed once we arrive. I apologize for the vagueness, but for now it is best. 

Sincerely,  
Joseph Lewis 

Mulder could see the color fade from Scully's face. 

* * *

Mexico City, Mexico

The two 18-wheelers containing what had been referred to as the "Amman Frescos" steadily made its way down a rural highway. 

"Senor Oranco", the driver called to Oranco who was in the back sleeping compartment of the truck trying to no avail to get some needed rest. 

"Si." 

"Roadblock up ahead." 

"Shit. All the traffic reports said that we would have an easy drive to the capital. FUCK!" 

The truck came to a stop. Federal police approached the driver's side. 

"Sir I need for you to step out of the truck." 

"Why? I was going the speed limit?" 

"Don't argue with me, just get out of the truck." 

Oranco emerged from the back. "Officer what seems to be the problem?", he questioned irritably. 

"This is the problem...", said the officer as he pulled out his pistol shooting the driver of the vehicle. 

**"NOW..YOU..GET OUT!"**

Oranco quietly complied. "What do you want? Money? It's in my duffelbag in the cab." 

At that moment six black Chevy Suburbans appeared. "No Professor Oranco. We want what the truck is hauling." 

* * *

Mexico City International Airport  
3 days later

She stood at the customs counter. A pleasant young Mexican man was inspecting the contents of her luggage. Only twelve hours before she had been a fair-skinned red head in Hong Kong, now a plump cocoa skinned brunette with a blunt bobbed haircut. Some would term her as being a frump, but that was just the look she was going for. It was a look which would raise little attention as she drove into the interior of the country and if it did, that was easy enough to change. 

"What is your business in Mexico?", asked the customs official. 

"I'm here for a family reunion." 

* * *

A Small Town in Mexico  
1 Day Later

"Was it really necessary to shoot him?" a man quietly and evenly asked the other. 

"He failed to comply with our orders and I knew that we could repair the damage." 

"Luckily, you got here in time. If he had died none of us would've been able to save him. But since he has been saved so I forgive   
you this transgression." 

The younger of the two men looked at the large blocks of rock which filled the warehouse that the group had rented on the outskirts of a small jungle town. 

"It is beautiful is it not," the older man spoke. His words were more of a statement than a question. 

"Yes it is." 

"He is coming and the path must be cleared for him. Only through him will she know what her true purpose is. The prophecy foretold so many years ago. No more will we be forced to run from the slaying hand of our enemies." 

Long ago they had come to Earth. The unwanted, the misbegotten children of an ancient civilization. They had been considered criminals and were vanquished to a solar system far away. Once there, they managed to conquer the indignant lifeforms which lived in caves and forged for their meager existence. They shared the same basic biology as these beings. They mated with them, made families and the greatest of mankind's civilizations. They came to be known by many names: Egyptian, Inca, Toltec, Anasazi, Hebrew and Roman. Each culture fell. Scholars would come to believe that internal decay and corruption had been the tool of their demise. In reality it was caused by the insidious infiltration of the others. 

They remained obedient to the stronger races. Their very security and lives depended upon the good graces of their jailers who had condemned them to this penal colony so long ago. Events would conspire which would put the world that they had painstakingly built with the humans over many millennia in danger. One race would be faced with a planet that was dying through their own exploitation of its natural resources. The other were the mortal enemies of the dying race. Their sole preoccupation was the total genocide of that race and any race who could possibly threaten their supremacy over all living things in the known galaxies. 

Jeremiah knew that they would triumph eventually. Long ago they had all been given by an oracle, the greatest of prophecies. One which the ancient Hebrews, exiled from their homeland, accepted as divine truth and etched on the stone walls which were before him. 

Jeremiah knew that Mulder believed that the end had been ordained. That both he and Scully were powerless to change that fate. The evil smoking man in his calculated and deliberate fashion, like any devil mingled lies with the truth. He had been deceived. What he knew was not the end of the story, merely the beginning. 

* * *

The Texas/Mexico Border

"How you hanging in there buddy?," asked Skinner. 

"Fine." 

"We're going to be there very soon. I know it's been a long drive." 

"Tell me about my Mom and Dad." 

Skinner did not know where to start. There was so much that a little 3 year old boy would not understand. 

"Your father's name is Fox and your Mom's name is Dana." 

"Is my Mom pretty?" 

"Yes, very. Smart too. Just like you, but you look like your father." 

Zach studied his image in the rear view mirror. His face took on a new meaning to him. He looked at his rich sable hair, the green of his eyes, the lips which made him look as if he were constantly pouting. He had been so firm in his knowledge of who he was and what he would become. Now he knew that he had shared this face with a stranger. Would he know when he saw that man that he was his father? Would all of his doubts evaporate in that instant? 

"Walter, we are running low on gas." 

"There is a town just across the border. I was gonna stop there. I   
won't feel at ease until we cross that border." 

"I need to pee," Zach stated flatly. 

"See my timing is perfect." 

Five miles into Mexico they stopped at a rundown gas station and market. Chickens, who seemed to outnumber the people there, clucked and picked at the ground. Another vehicle approached. A plain heavy-set woman with short brown hair emerged from the cab of the jeep she had been driving. She smiled piercingly at Skinner as she walked into the market. Claire stood at the counter purchasing two bottles of Coca Cola as the woman approached her. The young villager standing at the register looked up. 

"Petrol, Senora?" 

"Si, " she answered. 

With a decisive hand she laid the Paso's on the counter. 

Zach came up from behind and tugged gently at Claire's skirt. 

"I need to go to the bathroom." 

"I need to take him, can you watch my things for me please?" 

"Si", the young man answered. 

A few moments passed and the woman left the store. Claire stood outside the bathroom door holding it firmly shut. She didn't know why she even bothered. From the condition of the station and the welcoming smile which covered the clerk's face, she sensed that they were the first customers the man had had in quite sometime. The woman walked slowly towards Claire. 

"Can I help you?", she asked somewhat impatiently not feeling comfortable with the woman's proximity. 

"How soon we forget." 

"Forget what?" 

"Your abilities are slipping dear sister." 

She transformed into her true self, a mirror image stood before Claire. 

"You look as though you have seen a ghost." 

"I am, since you are dead to me now." 

"What? No loving embrace?" Fiona said as she approached her twin, the stiletto grasped firmly in her hand. With one swift action she plunged in into the back of her neck. Her toxic blood started to quickly seep from the wound. Within minutes she completely evaporated. 

Zach emerged from the bathroom. 

"Who were you talking to Aunt Claire?" 

"Just a lady who asked for directions." 

Zach noticed the kelly green pool near his feet. He didn't know what it was, but he knew one thing: Claire was lying. 

"I have a story to tell..." 

* * *

Arroyo, Mexico

Those words echoed in Mulder's mind. Scully was not the only one having dreams which intruded in the night. He stood before a pool of clear water. A form would approach, soon the moonlight which fell upon his face would his identity. 

"Jeremiah..." Mulder would say in bewilderment. 

"Mulder you must come with me." 

Mulder felt as if he were losing his grip on reality. Many times in the days to come he would feel this urge to get into the truck and drive. Where? He did not know. He pushed these thoughts away. Scully needed him. Something was not right about the pregnancy or the child which now inhabited her womb. Mulder did not fear it, but something was not typical. He knew it, as did she. Only four days had passed since she had broken the news and already a soft curve was forming in her mid-section. It was the familiar bulge of pregnancy which usually did not show until a woman was at least five months gone. 

"Mulder", she said. 

"Yes babe," he said stepping toward her. She stood in the bedroom doorway, her hair tousled from a mid-afternoon nap. His arms   
wrapped around her and his gentle kiss feathered her brow. 

"It moved." 

She took his hand and placed it on her belly. He could feel the ever so slight fluttering. He smiled. 

"It isn't normal Mulder." 

"Nothing about our lives is normal," he joked, trying to ease her frazzled nerves. 

"I know. Even though I am concerned, I'm not frightened. Well not about the baby anyway. Does that make any sense at all?" 

He knew exactly how she felt. 

"What does frighten you?" 

"My dreams." 

"What about the dreams?" 

He noticed her hesitation. 

"Tell me, Dana." 

"You are lying on the ground, shot and dying." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know the circumstances, merely the outcome." 

"Now that I know, I can take steps to make sure that doesn't happen. It won't happen, I want to see my baby." 

He always knew just what to say to calm her. He was the one safe harbor in a rough sea. 

"I need to go somewhere." 

"Where?" 

"That I don't know, but I will know when I am there." 

"I don't understand." 

"I have been having dreams as well. I need to see someone." 

"Who?" 

"Jeremiah Smith." 

"You're not going alone. I will come as well." 

"No Dana. You will be safe here." 

"NO! I am coming with you." 

Of all the changes that Scully had undergone in the years that they had known one another, one thing stayed the same: her stubbornness. It was futile to argue with her. 

"Could you get my keys off the nightstand?", he asked. 

* * *

Mulder stood before a stream; the same one which occupied his nocturnal thoughts. Scully approached with some hot coffee held out a thermos cup. 

"I thought he was supposed to meet you here," Scully stated in a flat tone. 

"I know this is the place Scully. I wasn't given a specific time in my dream." 

The trees began to rustle and a tall figure approached. 

"Jeremiah", Mulder said and started to walk forward. 

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. We have to move quickly since here, we are not safe." 

"Safe from whom?", Scully inquired. 

"Those who wish to be bring harm to your daughter." 

Scully looked down at her slightly swollen belly. 

"I have a jeep waiting just past the clearing, it's a short drive to where we have gathered." 

"Who?", Scully asked feeling uneasy. 

"Well you know the members of our group as The Church of the New Universal Order." 

"Mulder, no it's a trap! Remember...." 

"They were not us. That group was infiltrated by what you have come to know as supersoldiers. We knew that they wished to harm the boy and we sent an operative to rescue the boy and kill the members of the group. They are on their way here now along with your former Assistant Director Walter Skinner." 

"Why do they want to kill Scully's baby this time?" Mulder inquired. 

"There is time for this later. Now we must go. The compound is only a short distance from here." 

The compound which was an ancient Aztec temple was quiet as the others slept. As they entered Scully noticed that a sentry was posted at the entrance. In his hand he held some kind of weapon which she did not recognize. It resembled a large syringe with a trigger. 

"I have a story to tell Mr. Mulder." 

"I know, I wake up whenever you are just about to tell it." 

"What type of weapon is the guard holding?" Scully asked as they walked down a flight of stairs, making their way deeper and deeper underground. 

"We have spent the last five years developing that weapon. It seems to work in killing them. Basically it sends a lethal injection through their blood. A liquefied form of magnetite, sent through the syringe with the speed of a bullet from a gun. We are trying to incorporate it in what could be called a nerve gas bomb for them. It's harmless to us, to all humans, but death is instantaneous for them." 

They stopped at a large steel door which had no windows. Jeremiah punched in a sequence of numbers onto the keypad which was at   
its right. The door opened. 

"Mr. Mulder I am sure that you have read of the news of a significant archaeological find made in the Middle East a few weeks back." 

"Yes, a Judeo fresco containing end time images." 

"Well it is here and it is the story I am about to tell." 

They walked into the room. The artifact was covered in several white sheets. Jeremiah walked toward it and pulled them off one by one. Mulder started to look at the images square by square. Never had he seen such clear-cut evidence that Earth's ancient ancestors believed in the existence of extra-terrestrial existence. 

"Long ago my people were banished to this world. It came to be our home. We blended in, incorporated our beliefs and customs with that of the beings that were here. Most of the great cultures were our progeny with the people of this world. For so long Mulder, you have believed that the origins of man were not of this world and you have been correct the whole time. All of you are our children. Through us your brain capacity increased, you learned how to farm, cultivate, live in a civilized society together. A war which has taken place for many thousands of years and still rages today brought us here. During the last ice age our mortal enemies were looking for worlds to banish us to, we were the defeated people. We took this world and forged a new one with you. Things were fine until the 1940's in your time when scouts were sent out to check on our progress. Their world was dying and they wished to take ours. They aligned themselves with other alien races which you know as the Grays and the Supersoldiers. They wish with others to take over this world, killing those who will not be enslaved." 

"Where does this artifact come in?" Mulder asked. 

"Long ago it was prophesized that a deliverer would come. A woman who was possessed of all the greatest powers and attributes of our combined races. The greatest of us." 

Mulder looked at the squares which depicted an apocalyptic battle. Alien vessels attacking all of the world's major cities. He stopped; his eyes focused on the twentieth panel. He saw his image which was painted thousands of years ago on the cold rock. He stood with Scully who was holding an infant, a small boy at his side. 

* * *

1 Mile North of Arroyo, Mexico

"Are we there yet?" a young voice asked from the backseat of the Jeep Cherokee. 

"Almost sweetheart", the woman answered. 

"Claire is something wrong?" Skinner asked while keeping his eyes fully fixed on the road. 

"No, why do you ask?" 

"You just seem more quiet, preoccupied than usual." 

"I'm just worrying for Zach. Wondering how he will react to seeing parents he's never met before, not even seen so much as a picture of." 

"I'm sure at first it will be uncomfortable and rocky at first, but Mulder and Scully have never stopped thinking about him. Hoping that one day this would all end." 

"Yes, I do think that it all will be ending very soon." 

"Nobody deserves to have a happy life more than Fox and Dana. The law of averages has to catch up eventually. I don't know how they have retained their sanity over the last 12 years, yet they have. In way I have always been envious." 

"Envious? In what way Walter?" 

"To have such a strong belief and faith in something, in one another. We all hope to have what they have." 

* * *

Aztec Temple, Near Arroyo Mexico

"I sense that soon they will be here," Jeremiah Smith said quietly. 

Scully was silent, her thoughts preoccupied by the thoughts of finally seeing her and Mulder's son. All of it was too overwhelming. The fact that fate had deemed long ago that she would have children upon which the entire fate of mankind would fall; it was incomprehensible to her. She feared for herself, for Mulder, for William and her unborn and unnamed daughter. 

She felt a light fluttering in her womb. It was comforting, as if her baby could read Scully's thoughts. A soft voice could be heard in her ear alone saying words, "Mother, don't fear for me." 

"Your daughter was chosen long ago to be the one which lead us into the ultimate and decisive battle with those who wish to destroy us and humanity." 

"Why do they want my son?" Mulder questioned. "He no longer possesses his abilities. When my daughter is born the same procedure could be performed on her." 

"Your son was also chosen to be her protector and his abilities have only been dormant. Soon he will have them back. The injection which your brother administered only retards his abilities for three years. Soon the date of his birth is approaching and once again he is in mortal danger." 

Jeremiah fell silent suddenly. 

"What is it?" Scully asked. 

"They are here." 

The door opened. Scully was the first to see him. He was a tall little boy for his age, light freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose and like his father he had a wayward strand of sable hair drooping just above his right brow. Inwardly she fought the urge to run towards him, taking him into her arms. A hold so tight as to convey all the emotion she had contained with her since that day that the social worker had taken the child from her arms. Him driving away, all her hopes and fears for him driving off into the distance to an unknown future. 

Mulder looked up to see him. His small hand with long slender fingers clasped tightly, entwined in Skinners. 

The boy looked up. "Is he my father?." he asked. 

"Yes." 

With those words, Zach felt at peace for the first time since this long ordeal had begun. His hand pulled away from Skinner's, he walked toward Mulder. 

"I look like you, " Zach said. 

"Yes you do." Mulder bent down to have eye level contact with him. Overcome with emotion, he did exactly what Scully had wanted to do. Zach fully accepted his embrace. His small arms tightening around his father's shoulders, his head resting atop them. Mulder could feel a silent tear slowly trickling down his eye, down his cheek and onto Zach's back. "Daddy don't cry," he said as he gave Mulder a reassuring pat on the back. He glanced up and saw his mother, her eyes red and stinging from tears that wanted to release themselves. 

"Mom," he said quietly and with those words Scully finally allowed the sobs contained within herself their liberation. She went to her son and Mulder joining the embrace. At last, the family portrait was complete. 

"Thank you," Mulder said looking up at Skinner and Claire. 

"You're welcome. Now we know he is safe. I was so worried the last few miles. Things went too smoothly, I was expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment." 

"Over the years you've done so much for us often at peril to yourself, no amount of words could ever be enough." 

"Knowing that he is now safe, that we might be able to stop these things, that is all the reward I am seeking and would ever want. Mulder in many ways I have a debt to repay to you. I thought I had lost my way, my faith. Settling down to rural domesticity, bidding my time, just watching the world go by, living in denial that one day this thing would come to pass. Just living in a blissful ignorance and denial. Now I know that I am a part of this, it is my fate, either I can accept that or just lay down and die with the rest of the world." 

"It's been a long night, we should rest," Jeremiah said and with those words they retired for the evening. 

Scully awoke to find Mulder and Zach missing from the room. In a hurry she put on the clothes she had worn the night before. Opening the door to the compound, the bright morning sun burned her eyes. She walked into the clearing and saw them. From a distance and in silence she watched as father and son skipped stones across a pond. She had fully reconciled the fact in her mind that she would never be a witness to the quiet moments that a family share. The small and seemingly insignificant things which in the larger picture take up larger significance and form the thing which she called memory. She was struck just by how much he looked like young photographs of her husband. Photographs which recorded scenes similar to this one with Samantha. Her heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of love and completion. Those moments would not be denied to him a second time. Things ordinary, things commonplace, like a hug, skipping stones, the truly extraordinary would at last be his to hold. 

"Hi Dana," a female voice said interrupting her thoughts. 

"Good morning Claire." 

"They seem to be getting along well. I noticed that you've been very quiet since we arrived." 

"It's just so overwhelming." 

"I was just coming to tell you that breakfast is ready. After breakfast Jeremiah has called a meeting of the community to discuss the future, the master plan." 

"I wish that we could stay like this forever. That my children would be spared their fate." 

"I cannot comprehend what you must be feeling Dana." 

"I don't think anyone could. Well perhaps Mary." 

"Mary?" 

"Yes the mother of Christ." 

"In what way?" 

"Being give the gift of this child, a special child with a higher purpose. Knowing in your heart that one day you will have to relinquish this child or in my case children to serve a divine purpose, but at the same time feeling resentful. Not feeling resentful to the child, but resentful to God for giving you this precious gift to love, to comfort and then taking all that away from you. So you waver between loving God and cursing Him. God is selfish, He asks too much." 

Claire was silent. 

"Yet I know this is right, that it must be done. Like Mary standing at the foot of her son's cross at Calvary, I too must accept the loss as foolish as that may sound. I remember once telling Fox that perhaps faith is a form of insanity. I still think so, but it is an insanity that brings in time sanity and peace if you are able to accept that He does have a plan and in the end goodness will prevail, despite the bumps in the road, over the evils done to us at the hands of others. I am probably making no sense whatsoever." 

"It does make sense." 

Scully could feel an intense pain in her head, blood seeping down the side of her cheek. There she stood, only it wasn't her but someone who looked like her clasping a large rock in her hand. The last image she had before loosing consciousness and falling to the ground. 

Claire tossed the rock onto the ground and headed toward the pond. 

"Hey you two!" faux Scully called as she walked to the pond. 

"Morning", Mulder called back. 

"They are waiting for us, breakfast is ready." 

"Scully you know I don't eat breakfast. Zach you want some breakfast?" 

"No", he said as he hurled another rock across the water. 

"How long have you 2 been up?" 

"Since daybreak." 

"At least come have a cup of coffee. They are expecting us. They might worry." 

Mulder turned to his son a playful look of dejection on his face. 

"Well you heard your mother." 

Zach looked up at Mulder. He tugged at Mulder's pant leg, her bent down. 

"She's not my mother." 

"Of course she is." 

"No, Dad, she's not." 

Mulder somehow knew the boy was telling the truth. He leaned down and whispered into his son's ear. 

"I believe you. Just stay close to me." 

They walked along the clearing making their way to the compound. 

"I was just thinking about something," Mulder uttered offhandedly. 

"What's that Fox?" 

She never calls me Fox, not even in the throes of carnal passion, he thought to himself. 

"What was the name of that English actress we met at the premier of 'The Lazarus Bowl'?", he asked. 

"What made you think of that Fox?" 

"Don't know, just random thoughts." 

"I don't remember, that was a long time ago. A lifetime ago in many ways." 

"I seem to recall some of the green eyed monster coming out in you Scully, you went on about her for days when we got back from DC. First inkling I got that you might see me as more than a coworker." 

"You've always been more than a co-worker. 

"Ah the truth comes out. Remember our first time?" 

"Fox I don't think this is appropriate conversation to be having in front of our son." 

"He doesn't know what we are talking about." 

Scully turned around, her face a mask of irritation. "What is with the grilling Fox?" 

"I didn't know that talking about good times constituted a grilling." 

Scully came to at that moment. Running and soon breathless she ran to the pond. They were gone. They must be on their way to the compound or worse they were dead. Almost within distance of the compound she saw their blue ford Explorer parked. Fortunately, the doors were unlocked. Reaching under the seat she found the loaded Smith and Wesson 38. She heard voices in the distance, ones which she recognized immediately. She crouched down and quietly shut the vehicle's door. Stealthily, she rounded the truck until she was behind them and drew the gun. It pointed at the woman who was pretending to be her. 

"Not so fast, turn around." 

The three of them turned around. 

"WHO ARE YOU?", she screamed, already a soreness rising from the back of her throat. 

"Who are you?", she asked in rebuttal. 

"Mulder it's me!" 

Mulder looked confused, an act he was putting on. He knew the woman with   
crusty blood caking at her hairline was his wife. 

"Ask me something that only I would know Mulder", the impostor asked. 

"What was my grandmother's name? My father's mother." 

"Moira, " she answered. 

"Jesus Mulder that is public record! Anyone could find that out!", the woman holding the gun yelled in an irritated manner that Mulder knew belonged to his Scully. 

"What did I buy you for Christmas last year, our first year living here?" 

"You didn't buy me anything Mulder, you wrote a poem." 

The words committed to memory she started to recite them. 

Claire transformed into her true self a gun poised and ready in her hand. It pointing directly at Mulder's chest. 

"Put the gun down Dana or loverboy here gets it square in the chest or better yet how about a 38 caliber abortion?" 

They walked silently, one of his hands clasped around hers, the other his son's. Scully looked toward him and he threw her an uneasy smile. 

"We aren't heading in the direction of the compound." Mulder said flatly. 

"How observant of you Agent Mulder. I can see how you were such an ace at the FBI," Claire shot back sarcastically. 

"Where are we going?" Scully asked. 

"I thought you might've figured that one out by now Agent Scully, we are going to attending a funeral, well actually three." 

They came to a shed and walked in. Cobwebs tangled in the locks of Scully's hair. Resting along a dilapidated wall were three shovels. 

"Each of you grab a shovel." 

Mulder grabbed the largest one. He looked at Scully and winked. He looked at Zach and mouthed the word, "Ready". Zach simply nodded. The boy started moving toward Claire who stood in front of them. 

"Aunt Claire are we going to plant a tree?", he inquired innocently. 

"No we're going to dig some holes." 

"For what?" 

"You don't need to know yet." 

"Why?" he started to whine, soon in the throes of a tantrum. Claire started to become frazzled and distracted. Mulder brought the blunt head of the shovel down on her head. 

"RUN!" Mulder yelled as she fell to the ground. He knew the strength of the aliens and knew that at any moment she could come to, unaffected by a trauma that would kill a human being. 

They ran through the thick brush. Zach stumbled. Scully with strength she did not know existed within her, scooped the child into her arms. 

"FASTER!" Mulder shouted. He stopped, giving Scully and Zach the chance to catch up. Once more he found his stride, Scully and Zach now in front of him when he was stopped dead in his tracks and fell. Scully could no longer hear the rustle of brush behind her. She looked back to see Mulder lying on the ground, redness seeping onto his white T-shirt. 

"NO!" she screamed running towards him Zach being pulled along the way by the vice grip of her hand. Claire caught up. Scully kneeled besides her dying husband. The gun was now pointed at the boy. 

"Time to finish the job", Claire stated flatly her voice devoid of anything that could be construed as human emotion. 

Scully finding her footing stood. "You will have to kill me first." 

"You first, him second, what does it really matter?" 

"Put it down Claire!" a voice yelled from the distance. It was a familiar voice, that of Walter Skinner. 

She looked up to see him holding a shotgun aimed at her. 

"Dear Walter, you must now by now that that thing you're holding can't kill us." 

"Put it down or I am going to shoot!" 

"You would want to shoot me after all the times we've shared?" 

**"PUT IT DOWN!"**

"A Mexican standoff in Mexico, how charming." 

**"PUT IT DOWN!"**

"Shoot me Walter if you want. It won't change a thing." 

With those words Skinner pulled the trigger. Scully noticed the pocket knife that Mulder had gotten into the habit of carrying since they had moved to Arroyo. She unsnapped the holster and held the knife is her hand. Claire was still down from the force of the round Skinner had discharged. Scully walked towards her, and turned her around, her neck exposed. Scully leaned down and whispered in her ear... 

"Never underestimate maternal instinct you bitch,." as she plunged the knife into the base of her neck. Soon the green toxic ooze she had seen so many times before was spilling out of their would be assassin. She moved toward Mulder dragging him as far as she could so that he wouldn't be effected. He was still alive, but barely. Tears poured from her eyes. 

"Scully I love you. I have always loved you. Don't let them win," he said his words taking what little oxygen was still contained within his body. 

"No Mulder. No! Don't leave me!" 

Skinner approached. "I'm going to go get some help." 

"Hey Walter" Mulder said, a moment later coughing up blood. He looked back to his beloved Scully. Her hand grasped tightly in his. "Kiss me, take my last breath." 

"No Daddy! You aren't going to die!" 

Zach laid his small hands on his father's wounds. The blood began to seep back into his body, the hole gently closing. For many nights Scully awoke before the dream ended, now she knew. 

* * *

Epilogue, 6 Weeks Later

Mulder sat on the edge of the bed. He gazed down at Samantha as he held her. She looked like her mother. Her head covered in a light red down, the mouth pouty and defiant. A mouth he knew one day would tell him, he was wrong about most everything in life, but then again that is what teenagers did. He and Scully debated naming her Samantha. At first Mulder didn't want to. The name was associated with a lifetime worth of hurt, of dreams unfulfilled. It was a tragic name. Scully had convinced him that it was the right thing to do. Through this child that fate would change, through "this" Samantha a promise would be realized. The mystery to the quotient of their lives would be revealed at long last. 

**THE END**   
  


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